


Meet me in New York

by SanAnn



Category: Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanAnn/pseuds/SanAnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about Andrew coming to New York to shoot the new Spider-Man movie and Jesse being happy to see his best friend. This is also a story about Jesse realizing he's in love with said best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet me in New York

**Author's Note:**

> Work was originally posted on LJ

“Jesse, it’s me. You won’t believe where I’ll spend next weeks of shooting _bite-my-arse-I’m Spiderman_ movie. New York! Don’t wear your lenses when you come pick me at airport tomorrow. I missed your glasses terribly!”

 

Message on his answering machine ends.

The back of Jesse’s throat lets out some weird happy sound that he has no time to process and he’s busy dialing Dr. Stewick.

He doesn’t wait for Dr. Stewick’s “Hello”, before he blurts out frantically, “I was correct and you weren’t. Andrew is coming to New York and he is not acting weird so there’s no need for me to come to my senses and reveal my true feelings which I am trying to figure out unsuccessfully for eight months already. And you lost me 50 bucks in _Both of us are subconsciously unhappy_ bet. Pay up!” Jesse pauses to take a breath, feeling blood rushing to his head, and hears hesitant, “Sorry?”

“Um, it’s me, Jesse. Um, have a nice day and you still owe me!”

Jesse hangs up and plans to call his mother.

Jesse hates lying to his mother. But between family dinner and Andrew, he’ll chose Andrew because it’s wise and appropriate. Andrew is coming over and it’s their first time together since– since _forever_. Jesse doesn’t want to inform his mother Andrew is coming, not now, because she’ll invite him over and Andrew is British which means he’d feel terrible about declining anything to Jesse’ parents.

Additionally so, Jesse doesn’t want to explain to his mother that Andrew and he need their _alone time_ because everyone looks at them funny when they say that out loud. Which is disturbing and annoying.

And which is why Jesse sends her a message explaining that a new audition came up. Because he hates lying to his mother. It’s perfectly accurate.

Then, Jesse calls the bakery on the corner of his street and orders bagels to pick up for tomorrow morning. Andrew loves bagels. And Jesse loves– Jesse loves everything that makes Andrew happy.

 

 

 

Jesse stands at the airport gate, adjusting his Indiana red baseball cap, tugging it down low and tucking his curls under it.

Not that he’s some Justin Bieber or someone as inadequately popular as he is, but _The Social Network_ attracted some thoroughly dedicated fans who stare suspiciously at Jesse when he assures them he’s not that guy from _the Facebook_ movie. Not like it was in Boston. Not when they were almost anonymous with Andrew glued to his side.

Andrew with his soulful eyes could successfully convince any _Zombieland_ fan that ‘ _no, he’s not Jesse Eisenberg. He’s my step brother from Russia who doesn’t understand a word and these questions make him feel awkward, so please stop’_ , with Jesse obediently nodding and saying, “Ya ne ponimayu vas.”

Jesse sighs heavily for a moment – feeling of loss tugging at his heart as usual – but then, he remembers why he’s here in a first place and tugs his cap lower for people not to notice his obviously maniacal happy grin.

Now, Andrew is back to him, and Jesse will have more stories for his own private brainy ‘piggy bank’.

_And where is Andrew?_

Jesse starts rocking nervously back and forth on his heels and shoves his hands into gray jeans pockets to keep himself from biting his nails.

He cranes his neck backward, worrying if he missed Andrew. He hurriedly starts repeating the London flight arrival times in his head while glancing back.

Andrew spots him first. Because when Jesse looks back, he is faced with Andrew standing in front of him, unmoving, hand clutching onto the blue backpack on his shoulder, while he stares at Jesse, smiling blindingly, as if Jesse is the best and most exciting thing in Andrew’s life. Jesse doubts he is, but he knows the feeling.

Andrew crosses the distance in two steps – Jesse counts because everything involving Andrew matters – and they both pull and tug at each other as if they’re unlike poles of two different magnets, and then, Jesse has Andrew in his arms and he can’t believe he lived without him.

Andrew sniffs at Jesse’s hair, arms wrapped around him, and his tongue darts out to lick Jesse’s cheek, tasting. Then, Andrew shifts to rub their noses together – careful of Jesse’s glasses – and smiles. It’s just something they do. Everyone has its own way to say ‘hi’. This is theirs.

Jesse’s part in this is to laugh quietly with delight and to clutch at Andrew tightly, whispering _Andrew_ in his ear, arms draped around Andrew’s shoulders.

  

 

 

  
Jesse is driving and Andrew keeps rambling about London in the passenger’s seat.

He talks about his parents and a cat he forced them to adopt because Jesse taught him what it means to be a homeless cat. Andrew talks about Carey and her wish to force him into singing songs, and about Robert who envies Andrew that the fangirls don’t in shrill his ear when they see him. Then, he jumps into talking about mad fanboys and John Lennon, and after, about Lennon’s bagism concept, and Andrew’s father – _Beatles_ fan, and how both Andrew’s parents wish to meet Jesse (Jesse highly doubts that part, because the only person who is excited to see Jesse is Andrew, Jesse himself doesn’t even share this excitement).

Andrew pauses when the traffic light turns red and they stop.

“But uh, the whole time I was there, it was like– I felt like–,” Andrew starts, slowly picking the words, and sighs, and Jesse worriedly glances at Andrew, wondering what kind of tremendous disaster happened to make Andrew sigh heavily.

Jesse knows Andrew needs time to form his thoughts, so he waits and doesn’t press him.

“Something like– It was like something was _off_ ,” Andrew sighs some more.

The street light turns green but the car in front of them doesn’t move, and Jesse honks twice for a good measure while his heart speeds up with the evidence of Andrew being sad.

“What? What is it?” Jesse starts stuttering nervously, intentionally looking straight ahead. _What if Dr. Stewick is right and Andrew is unhappy? What if Jesse makes Andrew unhappy?_

Andrew’s palm covers Jesse’s knee, “Jess.” His name comes out fond and soft.

Jesse turns to catch Andrew’s reassuring gentle smile as if he knows what Jesse thinks (knowing Andrew, he probably does), and Jesse’s heart does a flip flop.

They look at each other, and start grinning for no reason, and then, the drivers honk at Jesse. _Oh right. Green light_.

Jesse starts the car hurriedly and Andrew sticks his head out of car window to command the drivers, “Hush now!”

“American drivers are mad men and suicide volunteers,” he comments when his gaze is back on Jesse while Jesse maneuvers the car through traffic.

“The last I’ve heard from you,” Jesse squints his eyes, looking up, as if calculating, “Like two minutes and 40 seconds before this exact moment, you were not fond of London either.”

“London is not the same anymore,” Andrew starts wailing in fake posh British accent, and pokes Jesse in the shoulder, “You ruined Great Britain for me, Jesse Eisenberg. My queen is kicking me out of the Knights of the Round Table because my misery turned the table square.”

Jesse gasps in horror playfully, “This is unacceptable! I’ll write a demanding letter to your queen to have an eye to eye talk! Who do those royalties think they are, not acknowledging new trends! Square is new round this season!”

It helps him achieve the effect Jesse was aiming for. Andrew starts giggling and his body shakes a little, and he looks at him with amusement like Jesse says the funniest things in the world.

 

 

 

Andrew has a hotel room booked for him, but he has a couple days off before he starts shooting and not staying with Jesse is out of question.

Andrew tries to be polite and, you know, British, bringing this up hesitantly, when they step into Jesse’ apartment, “You think, um, maybe– You don’t have much space–”

“Do you secretly hate my cats?” Jesse asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“No!” Andrew gasps in horror, eyes getting implausibly larger, and Jesse wonders how much larger they can manage, and why he never thought of exploring this subject before, “Why would you? No! How can you even say that?”

Jesse’s older cat Mr. Jefferson is waddling towards Andrew to greet him and Andrew catches him to hold against his chest, managing to shut cat’s ears with one hand, while attempting to press another hand against his own ears.

Andrew closes his eyes and shakes his head in denial, “Don’t worry. We’ll pretend we didn’t hear that, Mr. Jefferson. If we didn’t hear that, it doesn’t exist at all, trust me.”

Jesse observes Andrew, tilting his head to the side and wondering why Mr. Jefferson is never so obedient in his arms, when he is hit with a sudden urge to kiss Andrew. _Huh. When did that come from? Maybe because Andrew’s eyes are closed and that makes him look like Sleeping Beauty. Yeah, that’s the correct answer._

 

 

 

They occupy the sofa and Andrew sits with his legs crossed, biting into his cinnamon bagel, while holding a plate with one hand to keep the crumbs from falling into the cushions. Mr. Jefferson rests in his lap, eyes closed.

Jesse’s other cat, Luna Lovegood, is contemplating which place to choose between leaning on Andrew’s thigh or Jesse’s lap, therefore she moves from one place to another every ten minutes or so, shifting her weight slowly in attempt to be discreet about it.

Technically, Luna Lovegood can be considered Andrew’s cat as he was the one to name her. Jesse can’t actually bring up the prerequisite of the deal they made half a year ago, but the agreed terms specified that Andrew is entitled to name at least one cat Jesse if fostering. Andrew enthusiastically jumped into arranging the contract, including the cause reading as following, “While away, Andrew Garfield is trusting to look after Jesse only to the cats he names himself.”

Andrew’s agent promptly declined his idea of hiring qualified contract lawyer to check over the agreement; therefore they left it as it is, made two copies of the contract, and signed it. Now, they have it framed and hung on the walls of their apartments.

Luna is not really a good carer; way too absorbed on her needs, but Jesse assures Andrew otherwise every time they have a call. Andrew always worries that Jesse is not taking as good care of himself as he did of him, and if Luna’s presence comforts Andrew, Jesse will roll with it.

Jesse sits next to Andrew, knees almost touching, and chews on his own bagel, chocolate one, because Andrew said that chocolate bagel contains more calories and will help Jesse gain more weight, and looked at him big doe-eyes of his and Jesse grudgingly had to agree.

Somehow, unnoticed of Jesse, Andrew became more skillful in feeding him than Jesse’s own mother. Andrew is sneaky like that.

Once, Jesse reasonably pointed out that Andrew must be in the ‘disappears if he turns sideways’ list himself. But now, Andrew is bulking up for Spiderman and Jesse can’t keep his eyes from roaming over the changes of Andrew’s body, itchy to feel them under his hands.

Andrew licks his fingers clean and Jesse keeps watching him, mesmerized by his fingers. They are proportional and fascinating.

When Jesse finishes his bagel, his eyes start scanning surroundings for a napkin, fingers sticky with chocolate.

“Hold on,” Andrew commands and bends to catch Jesse’s wrist with his lean fingers. Next moment, Andrew’s tongue darts out to sloppily lick Jesse’s fingers and Jesse watches Andrew with a grin while his heart beats obnoxiously in his chest.

“Chocolate thief,” Jesse accuses him in a stern voice.

“Nonsense,” answers Andrew, smiling blindingly, and gently bites the tip of Jesse’s thumb.

“Ouch,” Jesse jerks his hand off in indignation and Andrew’s face has not even a shadow of shame when he asks, “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

“I’m writing a letter to your queen,” Jesse replies and throws a pillow at him.

 

 

Andrew spends a night on the sofa – Mr. Jefferson and Luna Lovegood acting traitorous and joining his company – while Jesse keeps tossing in his bed and seeing incoherent dreams.

When he wakes up he remembers only Andrew’s whisper in his ear, “You can ask for it, you know.”

Jesse opens his eyes, disoriented, and looks up at the clock. 9AM. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

He wants to get at least another hour of sleep because he feels over-weary and insomnious. Jesse closes his eyes and concentrates on relaxing and steadying his breathing. Time stretches maddeningly slow.

It doesn’t work.

Jesse sighs and opens his eyes reluctantly. He puts a blanket over his head and shoulders and pads into the room where Andrew is plastered on his stomach on the sofa, wearing black t-shirt and briefs, with blanket slipped down on the floor. Jesse’s cats keep Andrew warm by sleeping on his back.

Jesse looks at three of them, blinking, eyelids heavy, and he feels like a kid being thrown out of the cool kids party. Also, he envies his cats.

Jesse doesn’t think when he stumbles to lay onto the sofa, his back to Andrew’s side, shifting stubbornly to make room for himself, and tugs his blanket to cover them both.

The next moment, Andrew’s arms grab at his waist and he asks in a worried sleepy voice, “Jesse, what? Are you okay?”

Andrew’s rough from sleep voice sends shivers down Jesse’s body and he shifts uncomfortably and tries not to think about the lower part of his body taking interest in this.

It happens with him, his sexuality is not something he can ignore or get rid of, but mostly it happens when it comes to Andrew. It’s logical as Andrew is the only person Jesse squeezed into all parts of his life. So, he just shuts his mind on this as he feels guilty for perverting over his friend.

It’s okay, he has Tuesdays and Dr. Anders for this.

“Why are you–? Jess, were you having nightmares?” Andrew doesn’t needs his answer as his hand starts rubbing his back soothingly and Jesse lets out a sigh.

“Your feet are cold,” he says in explanation.

Andrew grins, Jesse knows he does, he doesn’t have to turn his head to know it.

Then, Andrew shifts and starts moving Jesse up, and he doesn’t want to open his eyes, he lets Andrew lead him towards his bedroom. Sometimes with Andrew, he likes to stand aside, putting all the responsibility on his friend.

Besides, Andrew is going to be Spiderman. That’s what Spiderman is for, right?

Andrew puts him to his own bed and lays next to him, facing Jesse.

He covers them with the blanket and then, he kisses Jesse’s closed eyelids and says softly, “Sleep now.”

Jesse does.

 

 

 

Andrew is stirring eggs in the fry pan for Jesse – four eggs, Jesse stands uncorrected, with Andrew huffing and lying through his teeth that it was two, like Jesse hasn’t noticed him sneaking into the fridge and adding another two – because he’s apparently on a mission to get Jesse fat.

When Andrew hands Jesse a plate and sits in front of him with a bowl of cornflakes, Jesse raises his blue eyes at him and keeps staring.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Andrew sticks his hands up in ‘surrender’ gesture, “I’ll free you of one quarter. But that’s it!”

Jesse hides his smug smile in his plate. _Works like clockwork_.

 

 

 

Jesse’s mother calls when Jesse loads the dishwasher with Andrew standing close to him and gushing about _Spiderman_ comic books.

“Hey mom,” says Jesse, phone squeezed between his head and his shoulder. He ducks his head in attempt to hide his guilty look from Andrew.

“How did the audition go, honey?” She sounds supportive and concerned, and Jesse cringes.

“Um, okay, I think,” Jesse says, distracted, as Andrew starts watching him intently.

Jesse makes a move to slip out of the kitchen.

“You think you can visit us next weekend?” She asks as Andrew grabs Jesse by his sleeve and doesn’t let go.

“Sure, sure. I will.” Jesse mumbles, looking up to eye Andrew guiltily, “Mom, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go.”

“Okay, darling. But give me a call soon. I want to have more of you than five minutes.”

“Sure,” Jesse will agree to anything right now, feeling the burn of Andrew’s gaze on him.

“Love you. Bye! And don’t forget to call your father.”

“I will. Love you too.” Jesse says and ends the call.

Andrew jumps in immediately.

“Jesse Adam Eisenberg!” He says in his most stern voice, “Did you just lie to your mother?”

Jesse sighs. He doesn’t even have to ask how Andrew knows.

Some people have consciences, Jesse has Andrew.

 

 

 

Jesse promises Andrew to call his mother and go to family dinner, letting out a heavy sigh while he looks down, his legs are slightly tense as he tries to keep himself from shuffling his feet.

But then, Andrew comes close and reaches to tangle their fingers together, and this unexpectedly makes Jesse want to dance, and Jesse doesn’t dance.

Jesse looks up as Andrew sincerely shares, eyes glistening, “I’d be delighted to join you.”

Jesse can burst out with joy and happiness he barely contains inside.

 

 

 

They drink tea on the sofa and Jesse chews on his lower lip before he finally steps on his ego and tries to be a good friend for Andrew.

Jesse’s knee is twitching while he tries to look fascinated by the map hanging on the wall in front of him, “I’ve been thinking, uh. I know you’ve got some friends here besides me. In New York, I mean. And, it’s um, selfish of me to keep you for myself. So, uh, do you maybe– Do you want to visit them today before you start shooting?”

He blurts out and waits painfully for Andrew’s answer.

“I think–,” Andrew puts his palm on his knee and Jesse stops twitching, his gaze snapping to look at Andrew, “I don’t mind you being selfish, Jesse Eisenberg. And I want to be selfish as well. I prefer to stay with you. Right here. Is that okay?”

Jesse nods jerkily, biting his lower lip, as his huge grin tries to break onto the surface.

“That’s, that’s–,” Jesse searches for correct word. “That’s perfect.”

 

 

 

If Jesse had to give award to the most boring person in the world, he’d be the one to receive it.

He doesn’t understand why people find him witty and fascinating. He hides his awkwardness behind the sarcasm and likes to troll instead on answering straightforwardly as the truth is way more boring than the questions are asked of him.

But with Andrew it all comes naturally. He doesn’t know why, but he is a better person with Andrew. He always has a wide variety of interesting topics he likes to share, _ready-to-shoot_ good comebacks to make Andrew laugh, and he always knows what to do with his hands instead of rubbing them together or hiding them in his lap.

 

 

 

It gets dark sooner than Jesse expects – despite Jesse sneaking glances at the clock on the wall and forcing time to stop with his mind – and he sighs when Andrew stands up to leave.

Andrew packs, throwing things like toothbrush in his bag while Jesse sits on the sofa and watches him with a heavy heart, holding Mr. Jefferson and Luna Lovegood to his chest.

Three of them stoically try to hide their misery while watching Andrew.

Andrew turns to say something but he freezes for a moment, mouth slightly open, watching Jesse.

Then he steps in, adjusting Jesse’s glasses and bends down to lean their foreheads together, “I’m still here. In New York. You’re more than welcomed to visit me on set. I’d _love_ to see you on set. I’ll be calling you on breaks so often you’d get sick of me. And we’re spending next Friday with your family.”

Jesse nods frantically, but the lump in his throat is still there.

Andrew pulls away to ruffle the cats’ fur and says. “Take care of our Jesse, would you? For me? Please?”

Then, he carefully puts the cats down on the floor and tugs Jesse up.

Next moment, Jesse is squeezed in Andrew’s arms, but somehow he breathes easier.

“Promise me not to be sad while I’m gone,” Andrew whispers into Jesse’s ear.

“I can’t,” Jesse reasonably mumbles into Andrew’s shoulder.

“I don’t like you being sad,” Andrew points out.

 _Then, don’t go!_ “Okay, okay, I’ll be good,” Jesse pulls away and shoves lightly into Andrew’s shoulder. “Go now. I need to free my American apartment from your British oppression.”

And he is rewarded with Andrew’s grin, “Jesse Eisenberg, my queen will hear about this!”

 

 

 

When the door is closed after Andrew, Jesse goes into the bedroom and throws himself face down across the bed, feeling the loss and emptiness. He closes his eyes and breathes heavily.

The amount of his sadness is unexpected and overwhelming.

Andrew is here, in New York, but somehow Jesse feels as if Andrew is farther away from him than when he was in London. As if Jesse lost him without noticing.

The cell phone in his jeans vibrates and Jesse pulls it out to read the message from Andrew, _“Already missing you and being sad for both of us, so that you don’t have to.”_

Jesse is weak to resist a smile from spreading on his face. He bites inside of his cheek and doesn’t give it a thought before sending his reply.

It’s only one word, _“Andrew.”_ And it seems enough and utmost, everything he wants to say behind this name.

Andrew writes back right away, “ _Me too. A._ ”

 

 

 

The whole week is Jesse keeping himself busy with writing and re-writing scenes for his script, and talking with his agent about possibility of putting it on stage.

Andrew calls four or five times a day and Jesse says something along the lines of, “I’m good, cats are good. No, I didn’t starve myself to death. Yes, I’m busy with my script.”

And not, “I miss you so bad I can’t write and I forget to eat properly. In light of medical precaution, you should be locked to my body forever.”

 

 

 

Jesse gets a call on Thursday morning when he is in grocery store, planning to stock his fridge with healthy food and prevent Andrew from giving him a disappointed look when he’ll visit him later.

He checks caller ID before answering, “Hello, Emma.”

“Jesse Eisenberg, that’s you! I can’t believe it! That’s really you!”

Jesse pulls his phone away to frown at caller ID, and then, presses it back against his ear.

“That’s me,” Jesse explains patiently. “And that’s you, Emma.”

“No, no, no. That’s _you_!” She insists.

Jesse is wondering why on set of _Spider-Man_ actors are allowed to drink. _What if Andrew is drunk as well? What if Emma challenged him to drink and Andrew won’t manage to visit him later!_

Jesse wants to kill Emma.

She keeps bubbling, “You are that person this crazy British guy keeps calling all the time! I thought it was his girlfriend that he can’t separate himself from, or his long lost sister he’s just found and needs to tell all the details of their family’s past. Or I don’t know, his patrol officer or his therapist he needs to tell everything he does on a daily basis.”

Girls are disturbingly confusing. No wonder Jesse is into boys.

The universe was merciful enough to consider him having enough on his plate without having to crack the code of opposite sex.

“Andrew doesn’t need a therapist,” Jesse clarifies and reaches for the green grapes on the shelf. Andrew loves green ones and not the red ones.

As he explained to Jesse once, he feels as the red ones are overrated and arrogant, and green ones need all the support they can get to be confident.

Emma lets out a noise Jesse recognizes as the one Justin’s fans produce after seeing him, “Oh you two. But why didn’t you tell me? And here I thought tucking my hair behind my ear meant something for you.”

Jesse lost the track of the conversation a long time ago, and it’s not like it was valued; still, he decides to get it back on track. “Emma, if you want to start making sense, right now is perfect timing.”

“My ex and current co-stars are dating! How much sense do you want me to provide you with after getting my hands on this information? Shit! If I was currently in a relationship, we could go on a double date. I need to start a relationship!”

Jesse jerks the phone away and stares at it, and then looks around, and then, stares some more.

“We don’t date. You are so blatantly wrong.” He says dryly to the phone in his sweaty palm, and after, he turns it off, concentrating on the grapes, while corners of his mouth involuntarily turn down.

 

 

 

“Jesse!” Andrew shouts, jerking open the door with his spare key, and Jesse pokes his head out of the kitchen to find Andrew inside his apartment.

Andrew looks like he run for miles, sweaty t-shirt clinging to his chest, hair is a wild mess.

The minute he sees Jesse, he crushes into him, clutching desperately, breathing out brokenly _‘Jesse’_ into Jesse’s neck like his life depends on it.

Andrew’s hands curl into Jesse’s blue t-shirt against his shoulder blades while Andrew’s ragged breath send goose bumps down Jesse’s spine.

Jesse tells himself not to get worried, but it’s too late, his chest tightening with panic. Obviously, something dreadful happened. He never saw Andrew like this.

_What if– What if someone Andrew knows is dying? What if Andrew is dying?_

“Andrew?” Jesse’s voice is trembling while his fingers dig into Andrew’s flesh, on a side of painful. “What is it?”

“What happened with your cell phone? You never turn it off. I know you never turn it off. What happened? I thought–,” Andrew mumbles hastily and trails off, sounding miserable and clutching into Jesse tighter.

 _Jesse is so screwed_.

“Um–,” he starts, furiously thinking of less harmless way to provide the truth.

Andrew pulls away slightly to stare at Jesse, gaze turning suspicious.

“Jesse?” He prods, alert in his voice, and Jesse cracks immediately.

“I turned it off because Emma was bothering me.” Okay, maybe bringing up Emma is not the nicest way to shift Andrew’s attention from Jesse’s part in this, but it’s the most effective one.

Only, it doesn’t work on Andrew.

He lets go of Jesse and takes a step back, voice slightly hysterical, “You were particularly clear on you never turning your phone off in case something bad happens to you and you won’t be able to reach anyone. You told me the only reason your phone is off is you lying dead on the floor of some psycho’s basement.”

 _Oh!_ Oh-oh-oh. Now Jesse remembers.

Jesse rubs his forehead, wiping off beads of sweat, mouth opening and closing. This is so bad he can’t even form the words. _What kind of an excuse people come up with when they perform something horrible like this?_

“I’m really, _terribly_ sorry,” Jesse squeaks, looking pleadingly at Andrew. “I didn’t think– I’m so, so sorry.”

Andrew shakes his head, taking a heavy breath through his nose, and then, looks aside, voice mildly wavering when he speaks, “Have any got any idea? Four hours begging your answering machine to hear your voice, Jess! I was screwing the takes. They sent me away because they thought I was sick. I was sick!”

Why didn’t anyone write a script for such situations? Jesse is in desperate need for some direction and lines.

“Please don’t get mad at me,” Jesse pleads, fear that this can affect what Andrew and he have is squeezing the air out of his lungs. “Just tell me what to do to make it better. I don’t know what _to do_.”

It gains him Andrew’s unreadable stare which Jesse bravely holds for two agonizing minutes.

“ _Never_ do that again!” Andrew whispers harshly and jerks Jesse forward by the wrist, aligning his body against his own. “We spend this Friday with your family and next week you come to visit me on set _every damn day_. No excuses allowed.”

Jesse nods into Andrew’s shoulder, holding on to him and shaking lightly as the tension leaves his body.

“Andrew–,” Jesse starts. There’s something he needs to tell. Something inside him that is so big he hardly contains it and he needs to let it out.

“Shut up. I need five minutes.” They spends those five minutes holding each other and Jesse lets out the shuddering breaths one by one until he completely relaxes and leans his weight into Andrew.

 

 

 

They spend a night on Jesse’s bed, but they’re too stressed to fall sleep right away. Jesse keeps holding Andrew’s gaze when he looks at him and smiles when Andrew is the first to drop off.

Jesse kisses his check and whispers, “I’m sorry, my Andrew.”

Jesse knows he doesn’t really deserve Andrew, but it’s the only thing he’d snatch away from the universe without a hint of doubt about it.

 

 

 

 _The Amazing Spider-Man_ has pretty weird shooting hours due to filming in the center of New-York, so Jesse interrogates Andrew and marks down all the shooting days in his kittens calendar that hangs on the kitchen wall.

Andrew watches him in awe like Jesse writing down capital A along with a smiley face with red sharpie is equal to Da Vinci painting _Mona Lisa_. Still, Jesse gets flustered, because being the center of Andrew’s attention is similar to getting dizzy on champagne.

Apparently, for family dinner they have Friday night and practically the whole Saturday, not counting Saturday night as Andrew is due back on set.

 

 

 

Jesse’s mother somehow manages to get together every family member which mildly freaks Jesse out.

The minute they cross the doorstep, Andrew is taken away by Hallie to discuss the books she lent him the previous time.

Jesse knows that his family loves Andrew more than their own son, but it doesn’t mean they’re allowed to steal every minute of Andrew and Jesse’s time together.

Next time Jesse has a chance to see Andrew is behind the family table, with Jesse’s mom and Andrew discussing Jesse’s lack of sleep and healthy meal.

Jesse listens to them miserably and hums in disapproval, it’s the thing he has to deal with when those two get together and he got used to it. _At least as much as he is able_.

Andrew’s hand finds Jesse’s under the table, squeezing, and Jesse turns his head to grin happily at him until Jesse’s mom calls Andrew over to the kitchen to give him her apple cinnamon pie receipt.

Jesse is never allowed to the kitchen, so he stays in the living room, curled up on the sofa with a book.

He pretends to read while impatiently waiting for Andrew and carefully watching over other members of his family because the minute Andrew is out of the kitchen he won’t provide them with another chance to steal him away.

Unfortunately, the minute Andrew appears, everyone wants to share some _vital_ information with him, and even though Jesse tugs Andrew by his sleeve to sit on the sofa with him, Andrew has no time to talk to Jesse as he’s busy answering questions about England, _the Spider-Man_ , books, movies and thousand things because Andrew has a knowledge of almost all the things in the world.

Jesse knows Andrew is exciting, but it doesn’t mean his own family should be plotting against him, and punishing him for ditching them last weekend. After all, he was generous (and obviously, stupid) enough to kindly share Andrew’s and his time with them.

When it’s time to go to sleep, Jesse waits for every family member to leave the room – Jesse doesn’t remember that arranging sofa for guest to sleep ever took that long from his mother – before declaring to Andrew, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Luna and Mr. Jefferson will have a panic attack if we’re not there.”

Andrew looks at him, eyes crinkling, smiling so big like Jesse is giving him the best gift he could ever wish for, “Yes, I didn’t have enough of you today as well.”

Jesse nods curtly and looks away, “Yeah, that’s what I was saying.”

 

 

 

Later that night, Jesse lies in his bed and wonders how his bed became so big that Jesse wishes for a warm body next to him with his name being whispered softly in a British accent.

 

 

 

They leave right after the breakfast and Jesse clutches into Andrew’s hand when Kerri asks if they can stay a bit longer.

Jesse’s mom gives them carrot cake to eat later, and Jesse’s dad gives Jesse that knowing look that make Jesse twitch.

Once they are settled in Jesse’s car, Andrew says, “breathe out, Jess.”

Jesse breathes in and out loudly for a few minutes, Andrew’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest, and Jesse relaxes.

 

 

 

Okay, carrot cake tastes amazing. Jesse admits that.

But when Andrew says he wants to marry the cake, Jesse starts eyeing it suspiciously.

It’s not _that_ good, okay?!

 

 

 

Andrew’s feet is placed in Jesse’s lap and Jesse keeps rubbing them while Andrew reads the _Spider-Man_ lines out loud.

He rustles the papers and frowns down at the script. “Oh, right. This particular part has no lines.”

“Why is that?” Jesse asks absentmindedly.

“It’s the _kissing Gwen slash Emma_ part, Jess.”

Jesse stops rubbing motions as his mind shuts down on this thought. For a brief moment, there’s eerie emptiness in his head, and then, too many thoughts crush into him and Jesse can’t distinguish which one is important, and he just wants to shut them all down.

Andrew keeps rumbling, giving him a wink, “You’ve been through that in _Zombieland_. So, how was it? Any precautions I should take? Buy her wine and teddy bear before jumping into the kissing part? Tell her how good it was after? Ask her out for a date as a good gentleman will do?”

Jesse’s stomach tightens, he doesn’t feel good. Carrot cake was not good for him after all.

“Jess, are you okay?” Andrew’s worried voice is soothing but not enough. Jesse makes a beeline for bathroom.

 

 

 

Andrew strokes Jesse’s curls out of his forehead and rubs his back while Jesse throws up.

He brings him water after and helps him brush his teeth. And, although Jesse could manage the last part himself, he doesn’t protest, as Andrew looks like he’ll burst into tears if Jesse disagrees.

Jesse feels much better after, when they share Jesse’s bed; he tries not to think that Andrew should be gone soon. Jesse’s favorite blue duvet covers them both, while Andrew holds him and kisses his cheeks and his nose.

When Andrew’s lips brush over Jesse’s, they’re both drowsy, and it looks like a part of their dream.

 

 

 

 

Jesse wakes up in the middle of the night and the spot where Andrew should be is cold.

It’s not like it is a surprise, but the way Jesse’s good mood from previous night promptly evaporates – is. Jesse shifts and frowns at the rustling sound. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from under him.

_Sleep tight. Dream of me:) Be back soon. A._

Jesse hugs his pillow and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

 

 

 

Next day, Jesse keeps talking to himself while driving to the _Spider-Man_ set.

“Okay, I promised Andrew that I’d visit him, so I can’t argue with that. Also, I’m bringing him his favorite peppermint tea and bagels, to serve a purpose of feeding Andrew and make Emma envy as there’s no way I’m sharing bagels with her. It’s me proving my ability to multitask.”

“Move already!” Jesse honks to the car in front of him.

“Inadequately trained morons.” He hisses.

Jesse misses his bicycle. But he plans to watch Andrew flying over the buildings for a few hours and then drive them home.

Well, more like to watch over him, because he’d never tell Andrew that he was contemplating the idea of bringing mattress with him in case he has to catch him. This flying thing can be very dangerous, and Jesse has his pills in the jeans pocket to prevent any potential panic attack he’ll have the minute he sees Andrew risking his life.

Jesse is right in time for Andrew’s supposed lunch break.

Security guard lets him in, and Jesse walks further, trying to avoid everyone and being as invisible as possible while leaving message for Andrew on his cell phone.

He listens to Andrew’s cheerful voice on his answering machine, “Hello, this is Andrew. If you don’t know which Andrew, then, you’re calling the wrong one. Mom if this is you, I do eat properly, and yes, I will call you back. Jesse, if this is you, no, you can’t adopt another cat, we talked about this.”

Jesse stops and pulls a face, putting down a bag with food and looking at his _New Balance_ shoes, “Hi, this is me. Change your answering machine message or there’ll be consequences. Terror and violence. No hostages taken. Just watch me.”

“Shame. I like the message.” There’s another Andrew’s voice and Jesse startles. He raises his eyes to glare at very much tangible Andrew, grinning down at him.

“My heart could stop, you know. I could die of you giving me a heart attack. And my ghost would be haunting you _forever_.” He finishes dramatically, spreading his hands wide to emphasize the last word.

Andrew only smiles at him with adoration and envelops Jesse in a tight hug, resting his chin on Jesse’s shoulder, “I don’t mind. I think you will be a very pretty ghost.”

Jesse sighs and lifts his arms to hug Andrew back. “Still, I won’t be a nice one.” There’s a point he needs to deliver.

“I missed you,” answers Andrew sincerely.

“Okay, yeah.” Jesse did too.

 

 

 

Andrew squeaks in delight when Jesse gives him a bag with food, and then, he squeaks some more when he finds what’s inside.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Andrew smiles brightly and kisses Jesse’s cheek.

Unfortunately, Emma chooses this moment to appear out of nowhere. “Look, who’s here.”

She is evil. Jesse only needs a holy water to prove it.

Jesse gives her his most intense death glare but she just smirks at him and pats Andrew on the shoulder.

“Andrew, as I see your mood is much better as _your_ Jesse finally arrived, you can’t stop worrying over him being arrested for killing someone in the traffic.”

Jesse doesn’t like the way she emphasizes _your_ related to him. Of course, he is Andrew’s, but coming from Emma’s mouth it sounds different, like she’s implying _something_. Jesse doesn’t like it. There’s nothing to imply.

Andrew gives her a grateful grin and Jesse scowls. Andrew is way too naïve. All British people are naïve. This is why they lost in _The Battle of Baltimore_ against the Americans.

“Do you want some bagels?” Andrew offers to her and Jesse throws him a panicked look, but Andrew is too busy to smile at Emma’s _‘damn right, I do’_.

How those British people managed to keep their beloved Great Britain is beyond Jesse’s comprehension. Must be sheer luck.

 

 

 

They occupy bed in Andrew’s trailer, with Jesse squeezed between them, and Emma keeps trying to shift Andrew’s attention from Jesse, babbling about _Spider-Man_ crew and things Jesse is not involved in, and despite Andrew bringing Jesse into conversation ( _You should meet Martin Sheen, Jess. He’s a God among men_ ), Jesse starts wringing his hands ten minutes into conversation.

Andrew’s hand covers both his hands, squeezing, driven by instinct, as he doesn’t even pause in complaining about tightness of his Spider-Man suit.

Jesse looks down at their locked hands and when he raises his gaze, he is faced with Emma giving him a secret wink, like there’s some secret they share.

Jesse startles, frowning and trying to figure out the puzzle. He looks at Andrew and back at her, but she just smiles like there’s something obvious he doesn’t notice, and Jesse sighs, giving up on understanding her.

There’s a knock on the door, “Guys, we need you back on set.”

“Okay, time to save the world,” Andrew says, a fake solemnity on his face and in his voice, and then, he pumps his fist in the air, “Woohoo!”

Jesse rolls his eyes at him, and grins right after because when Andrew is happy Jesse forgets to care about his phobias and panic attacks, and feeling of being absent to the world.

 

 

 

Andrew winks to Jesse before he steps into the spotlight and slips on Peter Parker’s skin.

There’s no Andrew anymore. Jesse watches every movement of frustrating teenager trying to speak to love of his life.

Jesse is in awe, and he’s suddenly struck by this 16-year-old boy who tries to figure out who he is. Jesse feels his awkwardness and hurt of not fitting into the world. Jesse can relate to.

Jesse’s eyes follow this boy in the body Andrew disappeared into, eyes worried, until this boy– this sixteen-year-old boy uses Andrew’s body to kiss a girl, to kiss Gwen.

Jesse’s eyed widen and his smile slips off, it feels like a violent kick to his stomach, and something starts crumbling inside him.

_This is not good. This is– this is horrible. What is this?_

Jesse freezes on the spot watching kissing scene in what feels to him like a tremendous silence, while his mind screams at this boy to give him his Andrew back, to stop using his Andrew’s body and doing things that make Jesse want curl into himself and cry until this stop being truth.

 

 

 

They do twenty-two takes.

Jesse feels like he’s stuck in the loop of his worst nightmare.

On fourteenth take Jesse backs away to run into the bathroom of Andrew’s trailer where he throws up, and then, dizzily cleans everything after.

Still, he comes back to watch as the scene repeats over and over in front of his eyes.

On the background there’s a buzz of screams, _‘take seventeen, ‘cut it’, ‘rolling, rolling’, ‘take eighteen.’_ This feels like a soundtrack to Jesse’s nightmare.

Jesse counts every take, some part of him finding comfort in giving each take a statistical number, while another part prays for it not to turn into Fincher’s ninety-nine takes scenario.

On take twenty Jesse wants to hit both Gwen and Peter for hurting him so badly.

 

 

 

Jesse comes to his senses when Andrew touches him arm and says, “Hey, Jess. It’s over.”

Andrew’s eyes are worried and Jesse attempts to smile in order to calm him down.

“What is it, Jess?” Looks like Jesse is not doing a good job of it but Andrew’s British accent is comforting. There’s no sign of Peter Parker except for clothes which Jesse deliberately ignores. This is his Andrew. Brought back to him.

Jesse smiles despite his world shaking apart.

Andrew’s hand touches Jesse’s cheek and Andrew looks alarmed, “You scared me. It was like you were out for a moment. You sure you’re feeling good, Jess?”

“I’m fine,” Jesse smiles. _Remember to smile._

He is not fine at all. He is in love with his Andrew.

 

 

 

They are silent on a way to home.   
  
Jesse tries to gather his thoughts and not give in to the urge to hit his head against the steering wheel.  
  
Jesse sneaks glances at Andrew, watching him sitting in the passenger seat, forehead pressed against the window, eyes closed. Andrew looks exhausted and Jesse’s heart flutters inside his chest. Taking care of Andrew comes before his freaking out.   
  
He doesn’t know how he didn’t recognize those feeling before. But now, it’s too late. He should have seen it coming.  
  
Jesse will think about it later. Now, he should think of Andrew.   
  
“Gonna be home soon,” Jesse says and soothingly touches Andrew’s knee for a brief moment before realization hits and he jerks away his hand.   
  
It’s not their home and Jesse is not allowed to touch Andrew because he’s not a good friend.  
  
“’S good,” Andrew slurs, “Jesse is good for me.”  
  
Jesse snaps his gaze at Andrew, but his eyes are closed, and he doesn’t seem to be aware of his own words.  
  
 _No, I’m not_ , thinks Jesse morosely.

 

 

 

Jesse puts Andrew to bed and tries not to think about his feelings for Andrew when he frees him out of his shoes and jacket. They’ve been through this before. Nothing has changed, except– except Jesse looks at Andrew and he wants this. Want  _this_  to be forever, wants Andrew asleep next to him in the bed.   
  
Always wanted this but now he realizes why.   
  
“Stay,” Andrew has Jesse’s wrist in a loose grip; voice is barely above a whisper, big brown eyes watching Jesse.  
  
Jesse swallows hard, but he can’t say ‘ _no’._  
  
Andrew shuffles closer when Jesse climbs next to him, Andrew tugs and pulls at him until Jesse’s back is pressed against Andrew’s chest, with Andrew’s arm a comfort weight on Jesse’s waist.   
  
They did this so many times before that Jesse should be okay and shut the rollercoaster of thoughts in his head. It’s nothing. It only exists in his head, secretive and safe. So, it’s absolutely nothing.  
  
But when Andrew slurs, ‘ ‘S better, Jess’ – hot puff of air tingling Jesse’s neck – Jesse bites his lower lip and he can swear the pain is physical.

 

 

 

Jesse wakes up first, he stays silent in a circle of Andrew’s arms and lets himself feel it, relaxing. He wonders what it is like, to have this every morning not like a thief, but as someone who belongs here. To turn around and maybe steal a kiss from sleepy Andrew, waking him up.  
  
The moment he lets himself imagine this, he understands his mistake, body tensing up.  
  
It tugs in his heart and stretches painfully across his chest, every nerve tingling. It hurts so bad to wish for something he can never have. He wished for a lot of things before and he got used to some of them not coming true, but he never wished so desperately and hopelessly for anything.   
  
Jesse opens his mouth, gasping for air, fingers clutching at the sheets.   
  
Andrew chooses this moment to start stirring behind him, waking up, and Jesse clenches his teeth and forces himself to stay still.   
  
“Morning, Jess. I know you woke up,” Andrew’s thick and slightly teasing voice is not helping. Jesse needs to get up before he loses control over his body and ends up as trembling sobbing mess.  
  
“Yeah,” Jesse mumbles weakly, desperate to move away as Andrew holds him close.   
  
Andrew’s hand moves to run through Jesse’s curls, and abruptly, devouring, uncontrollable desire for Andrew covers Jesse completely, terrifying him.  
  
The force with which Jesse jerks away from Andrew to stand on his feet beside the bed, shaking slightly, his back to Andrew – surprises them both.  
  
“Jesse?” Andrew’s confused voice only adds to the feeling of guilt. Jesse glances back, and Andrew’s gaze pins him to place.  
  
“I need to go to the bathroom.” Jesse can’t help to sound breathless and desperate. He feels sick. Andrew looks good. More than good. Beautiful. He’s making it hard for Jesse to breathe properly and to keep himself at arm’s length, not to beg for Andrew’s love.  
  
 _God, I love you so much. Need you, need you._  Jesse thinks desperately, mind and body demanding one thing.   
  
Jesse flies out of the room before he voices his thoughts.

 

 

 

Jesse is a good actor, he’s been told by some brilliant actors that he’s a good one. So, why the hell he can’t act around Andrew?  
  
Andrew frowns at Jesse when Jesse gives him his morning coffee and tries to not let their fingers brush.  
  
Okay, Jesse can do that. There’s less than half an hour before Andrew leaves for work. He can do that. He needs to keep calm and act like he did before. He will let himself freak out over this  _falling-in love-with-Andrew_  disaster later.  
  
Unfortunately, Jesse slips when he hands Andrew a bowl of cornflakes and Andrew grins, sleepy and happy, tugging Jesse by the shoulder to bring him close and brush his nose against Jesse’s affectionately.  
  
 _Jesse just can’t– Andrew keeps acting like this and it’s so hard, and Jesse just can’t._  
  
“Andrew,” his voice sounds slightly hysterical even to his own ears, “Personal space!”  
  
His hands frantically push into Andrew’s chest until Andrew takes a stumbling step back and there’s a room for Jesse to breathe of  _non-Andrew_  air.  
  
Jesse looks Andrew in the eye and his breath stutters.   
  
“Jess,” there’s a hurt in Andrew’s eyes and Jesse squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment.  
  
“I just don’t feel good, that’s all.” Jesse doesn’t deserve Andrew. He’s a horrible friend, cheating and lying, and–  
  
“Rubbish,” Andrew dismisses his words immediately, eyes piercing and voice getting colder. “Since when do you lie to me, Eisenberg?”  
  
Jesse looks back, eye wide.  
  
He feels as if his worst nightmare comes true. This is the thing he’s been afraid of, to screw things up with Andrew. And now, he’s thrown into the middle of his personal horror, of ruining this perfect and amazing thing they have.   
  
Jesse blinks, desperately trying to come up with something and fix this.   
  
Cold chill runs down Jesse’s spine and his palms get sweaty, it feels like he’s in haze, and he can’t think straight. If only he could pause this need and let himself think clear.  
  
“You’ll be late for work,” he mumbles, heart beating loudly. His hands start to shake and he hides them in the pockets of his grey hoodie, looking aside.  
  
“Jesse,” Andrew’s voice is softer, confused, and Jesse turns his gaze to give him a helpless look. “What’s wrong? It’s me. What could happen in one night?”  
  
 _You happened, Andrew, and it wasn’t one night._  
  
Jesse looks back and Andrew is right there, his Andrew, his best friend Andrew. He wishes he could share this with his best friend, this wild urge that threatens to burn him, he wishes  _so damn much_  Andrew was not that only person Jesse can’t tell the truth.  
  
“Did I–,” Andrew’s voice hitches, “Did I do something?”  
  
Andrew’s voice should never sound so hesitant and lost.  
  
Jesse hates himself. He never reached the level of hatred he feels for himself now. It’s stuck in his throat and he almost chokes on it.  
  
Jesse gives Andrew a pained expression, “You’ll be late,” before he runs to his bedroom and shuts the door behind.  
  
The sound of Andrew shutting the front door is louder.   
  
Jesse sits on the floor, gasping and swallowing his tears.

 

 

 

“Jesse Eisenberg, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”   
  
Jesse should’ve never picked up the phone. But he’s miserable and he wants to die, and Emma is a part of his punishment.  
  
He lies on the floor in his bedroom and listens to her yelling at him, his body slightly racking with subsiding sobs.  
  
“How stupid a guy could be? What’s wrong with you men? Do you wake up one day and decide, ‘hey, today I’m gonna break a heart of one person who truly loves me because I’m bored’. Is this some kind of a joke to you?”  
  
Jesse keeps sniffing and tries to keep himself from starting to cry again.  
  
“Now,” her voice turns low and threatening, “If you don’t start explaining me why you broke a heart of a guy who represents the sun and moon for you judging by the way you look at him, I’m gonna drive over and kick your ass. Hard. With a stiletto heel.”  
  
“I love him.” He hiccups his confession.   
  
If Jesse wasn’t a complete wreck in the moment, he would not open his stupid mouth and he would definitely be having a panic attack right now.   
  
But now, that the truth is out, all he feels is embarrassment of acting like some teenage girl in front of her. Unfortunately, he can’t take those words back.  
  
Emma is not a tiny bit impressed, “Well, duh! Stop stating the obvious and start telling me why you acted like a dick?”  
  
“What?” Jesse splutters. His own voice sounds weird, high-pitched, and it disgusts him.  
  
“Are you serious?” She drawls in disbelief and huffs. She must be hating his voice as well. “You truly think you were being so sneaky that nobody figured you holding a torch for your guy?”  
  
“I–, no, I just figured it out yesterday, so no, no one, um, should,” he stutters, hand clutching his cell phone tighter.   
  
Emma was always the smooth talker, “That’s because you get stupid when it comes to Andrew, Jesse. Did you want me to insult you? That’s why you forced me to point this out?”  
  
He keeps silence, processing her words, and the realization makes him somewhat angry.  
  
“This– this doesn’t happen like that.” He exclaims with indignation, jerking upright to sit. “There’s supposed to be some kind of warning.”  
  
“What warning?” She obviously loses her patience.   
  
He waves his free arms jerkily, trying to explain the obvious. “I don’t know. Wasn’t I supposed to like– like being swept of my feet when I first saw him? I’d like to have some neon sign saying ‘ _beware of falling in love with your co-star’_!”   
  
“Are you twelve? The thing that you were smitten for him didn’t alarm you at all? You love him, he loves you. Happy ending ensured. Tons of sex ensured. So why does Andrew look like someone killed all the puppies in the world?”   
  
She can’t be serious. She’s talking about  _Andrew_  here. Andrew who is, who is– well,  _Andrew_.  
  
“He’s not!” He starts protesting hurriedly, his face reddening.  _Why is she torturing him?_  “He’s not. He could never– Such guy as Andrew, he could never–”  
  
She cuts him off. “Could never what? Choose someone like you? Cut the self-hating crap, Jesse. Are you seriously telling me that you broke our sunny boy’s heart just because you’re stupid not to realize that he loves you back?”  
  
She doesn’t get it, doesn’t get how her comforting lie adds to hurt of facing the truth. All the indignation and energy flies out of him, his body sagging down slightly as the numbness spreads inside him.  
  
“If Andrew did, he’d tell me.” He whispers miserably. “I know him. He’d tell.”  
  
“Well, maybe he’s just as stupid as you,” she shouts at him, “do I need to hit your heads to knock some sense into them?”  
  
“Emma, back on set, please.” A worried male voice stops her screams. Must be a PA. Jesse feels sorry for the guy.   
  
“We are not finished, Eisenberg,” she threatens Jesse and hangs up.  
  
Jesse puts the phone aside and stands up to curl up into the bed, burying his body under the covers from head to toe. Maybe he’ll wake up and this will turn out to be just a dream. Very vivid and very horrible dream.

 

 

   


  


Jesse wakes up, disoriented, his head hurts and Mr. Jefferson meows into his ear.   
  
 _Oh right. Feed the cats._  
  
Jesse rolls to sit in the bed, legs hanging off the side of bed, and hides his face in his hands, sighing heavily.   
  
Peering through his fingers he notices Luna Lovegood looking at him disapprovingly from the doorstep.   
  
“I’m sorry, okay?” Jesse gives her finally, voice coming muffled, but she doesn’t look convinced, hissing at him before leaving the room. 

  


 

  


Jesse fills the bowls with cat food and leans against the fridge to watch them in attempt to distract himself, while radiating misery.  
  
Mr. Jefferson carefully smells the food before sticking his nose into it while Luna graciously passes her bowl, giving Jesse a clear sign that she won’t do him a favor of eating  _his_  food after he hurt her Andrew.  
  
She jumps on the windowsill and glares at Jesse from there.  
  
Jesse can swear she tries to hypnotize him and force him to bring Andrew back.  
  
“I’ll call him, okay?” He retorts, glaring back.   
  
He only hopes Andrew wants to be brought back.

  


 

  


Jesse stands in front of the mirror and repeats the lines.  
  
“I’m sorry, Andrew. I don’t know what hit me, much be stomach flu. Please, forgive me!”  
  
This last version includes less whining and more determination in his voice, and he had to change the last line from, “Please love me back or I’d die.”  
  
Jesse glances back at his cats watching him carefully.   
  
“So how was it?” He asks hopefully.  
  
Luna is not impressed, twitching her ears, but Mr. Jefferson looks approvingly, tail held high.

  


 

  


Jesse takes an anti-anxiety pill to calm his nerves, and then, he takes a few deep breaths before calling Andrew.  
  
Jesse’s plan is to act like he did before and fix things with Andrew as soon as possible before their friendship starts breaking apart.   
  
It’s better than nothing. He’s an actor after all; he can act and keep this urge hidden for the sake of best relationship in his life.  
  
Jesse counts the rings before Andrew picks up.  _Six long rings._  Jesse should be happy he wasn’t left to deal with the answering machine.  
  
Jesse hears Andrew’s breathing on the other end, and Jesse swallows hard in answer. It’s easier to pretend without Andrew around. With Andrew so close he forgets how to function.  
  
No one says a word. They keep silence for a long tense minute, while the air gets thicker.  
  
“Andrew,” Jesse starts first and his voice sounds raspy and wrecked.   
  
Jesse tries again.   
  
“Andrew– Andrew–,” his false calmness slips away and his voice starts wavering as he can’t pick another word except for Andrew’s name.  
  
Andrew clears his throat and Jesse shuts up, glad for a chance to gather himself.  
  
Andrew’s accent comes through stronger than usual, “Jesse, um, listen. My friends invited me to stay over for a few days while I’m in New York. Well, I’ll be leaving soon, so, um, that’s the right thing to do, spend some time with them as well, so–,” Andrew doesn’t sound convincing and Jesse violently jerks his head in denial. This can’t be happening. He won’t let this happen.  
  
Jesse’s voice sounds stubborn and uncompromising. “All your stuff is here.”  _I’m here_.   
  
“It’s okay, I don’t have anything important there.”   
  
 _What?_  
  
“Andrew?” Jesse feels as if all his insides are churning.   
  
From all the people Jesse knew, Andrew was the only one who wasn’t supposed to hurt him.  
  
“I gotta go. I’ll pick my stuff on Friday night, okay? Bye.” It seems like he tries to get rid of Jesse.  
  
“Andrew?” Jesse’s throat is closing, voice disappearing, but Andrew hangs up.

  


 

  


Jesse takes another pill and calls Dr. Stewick, gasping into the phone, “You are a shitty doctor and I’m not gonna listen to you anymore!”  
  
“Jesse, calm down. What happened?” His doctor’s soothing voice only riles him up.  
  
Jesse’s heart pounds like crazy and his legs shake, “I’m not gonna fucking calm down. He– He left me. He’s gonna leave me. He– he hates me. He doesn’t want me anymore!”  
  
“Jesse, calm down. Breathe, just breathe. Everything will be fine.  Just breathe with me, in and out. I’m here for you.”

  


 

  


Forty minutes later, Jesse assures Dr. Stewick that his panic attack passed and he doesn’t need him to come over.  
  
Jesse sits in the couch and looks numbly at the wall in front of him when Luna jumps to land next to him and bumps her head against his hand. Jesse looks down at her and she licks his palm.  
  
Jesse nods, “Yes, I know we can’t live without him. I’ll bring him back. I promise.”   
  
Luna purrs.

  


 

 

  


Desperate time call for desperate measures.   
  
Jesse thinks he came up with a plan.  
  
He glances at the clock, 1 AM, shrugs and dials Emma.  
  
“Will you help me to kidnap, Andrew?” He blurts out without ‘ _hi’_ when she picks up.  
  
She doesn’t sound asleep and Jesse is not surprised. “What?”   
  
There’s a background noise, woman voice singing something nice, and Jesse strains his ears to understand the lyrics.   
  
‘ _You’re the nicest thing I’ve seen_ ,’ voice sings, ‘ _I wish that we could give it a go_.’  
  
He tries to listen to the song and deliver his point at the same time. “You know, to help me get minivan with those pitch black windows. I don’t have a basement, so, um, I will keep him in my apartment until he likes me back. Andrew needed a vacation anyway. Do you think I should rent a house with a basement?”  
  
“Are you serious, Eisenberg?” She drawls in that tone that Jesse always finds unsupportive. “Just tell him you love him and be done with it!”  
  
Jesse holds his breath to catch more lyrics before answering, ‘ _I wish my smile was your favourite kind of smile. I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style_.’  
  
Jesse finds the lyrics extremely familiar to his own feelings.  
  
“I want him to like me, not to scare him away!” He answers Emma, resentment in his voice. Jesse suspects her being uncomprehending on purpose. “I can keep him in my apartment until he goes back to liking me. You know, like Stockholm syndrome?”  
  
She hangs up on him with a loud click.  
  
Jesse tightens his lips. Emma’s so rude.   
  
He didn’t even have a chance to ask the song’s title.

  


 

  


Jesse Googles the lyrics he could catch while talking to Emma and grins the whole time downloading the song.   
  
He sets the song on loop and smiles – lyrics fit Andrew and him so perfectly well. He thinks it means something.   
  
Jesse doesn’t care how cheesy it sounds because when Kate Nash sings ‘ _I wish we could see if we could be something_ ’, he takes a decision he was deferring too long.

  


 

  


“And that's a wrap, people– for today,” everyone smiles and Andrew smiles because he’s supposed to.  
  
He says ‘ _thank you_ ’ to everyone on set, though in his head he begs them, “Can we do one more take? Please?”  
  
Slipping into his own skin gets harder with every day, Peter Parker’s head with his teenage frustration and secret identity seems simpler and safer.   
  
And when he’s Andrew, he turns into gray version of previous self.   
  
Like there’s a black and white picture of a boy standing alone in the rain behind the tree, with icy wind blowing hard, rain drops penetrated to the very marrow of his bones. It takes one glance to feel this boy’s despair and misery.  
  
Andrew is that boy.  
  
When he looks back at the starting point to where it all began in attempt to catch the possibility or rewriting it, he thinks he had no choice of not falling in love. Like an irreversibility.  
  
Sometimes, it’s comforting.  To realize that he has no control over it since the beginning. To not blame himself that his tendency of falling in love with co-star in order to go deeper into the character has something to do with it.  
  
But he was waiting for it to pass away, to subside slightly, to stop feeling like he is hit with a truck every time he sees Jesse.  
  
He gave himself distance and non-Jesse months to get over. He could quit him. Not seeing Jesse every day had to be his cure.   
  
Shooting  _Spider-Man_  in LA clouded his thoughts, and he fooled himself into thinking he got better. He came to New York, stupidly thinking that he got free. So silly.  
  
Nobody warned him that love can grow deeper.   
  
 _One day, you’ll wake up to the fact that you walked further and left your love far behind_ , Robert said once, when they were drunk and Andrew couldn’t stop pouring his heart out.  
  
But Andrew’s love to Jesse is like his skin he wakes up every day in.   
  
 _Irreversibility_ , he tells himself.   
  
Lying Jesse about staying over at his friends’ place was just an escape.   
  
Instead, every night he goes into his hotel room and tries to sleep. His sleep is light, four or five times a night waking up, eyes heavy, and going back to sleep, disoriented. Andrew floats between realities, trying to catch another dream where Jesse smiles at him.

  


 

  


In real world Jesse stopped smiling at him. As if Andrew’s secret is putting space between them, forcing Jesse act weird and distant.   
  
Andrew knows they’re drifting apart, but he prefers to hide away and keep  _them_  linger agonizingly than putting final end to it, cutting the ropes.   
  
Every time Emma attempts to drag him to some bar to  _loosen up,_ he declines _,_ preferring hotel’s sheets and dreams of the things he’ll never have.

  


 

  


Apparently, now Andrew walked right into another attempt of hers.  
  
There’s a cab waiting outside the set with Emma waving him over impatiently, while leaning against the door.  
  
“Can you move your ass faster? I don’t have a whole day.” Her raspy voice is displeased.  
  
Andrew drags his black jeans-clad legs pass her, without even glancing her way, and she quickly catches up with him, grabbing him by the wrist.  
  
“Andrew, I’m sorry, did you hear me  _asking_  for you to join me? We’re leaving. Now!”  
  
She pushes him into the backseat and takes a seat behind the driver. Andrew doesn’t understand why there’s no protest from him, except maybe he wants to take his mind off one particular guy and Emma with her ability to get him drunk the fastest way possible can help.  
  
She talks about her friend throwing a rooftop party and Andrew pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up, and presses his head against the car window. He doesn’t care as long as the booze is available.  
  
They stumble out of the car and Emma stops him on the curb to observe him with a disturbing intensity.  
  
He looks back in silence, gaze hollow, arms shoved into his sweatshirt pockets. Her hands reach out for his head to pull his hood down and brush back his unruly hair as he finally grumbles, “Emma.”  
  
“I want you to look your best,” she huffs in explanation, sighing as she gives up on his hair.  
  
“Okay, take this!” she shoves a bottle of red wine into his chest.   
  
Andrew has no other choice but taking it, looking down dubiously at the bottle while Emma checks her wrist watch.   
  
“Right on time,” she mumbles.  
  
Andrew opens his mouth to voice his desire of going back to his hotel but Emma catches him by elbow and drags him forward.   
  
“Emma, I don’t think this is a good idea,” he states sadly while they drive up in the elevator. “Can I spend like um, for about an hour there, and then, can I leave you and come back to my hotel?”  
  
He predicts her glaring at him and being yelled at.  
  
“Sure,” she nods happily and Andrew frowns at her. There’s something on her mind but he’s too exhausted to figure it out.   
  
“Is this legal?” He asks in afterthought when they climb up the narrow stairs to the roof. He clutches the bottle to his chest, with Emma following right behind him.   
  
“Your ass looks good in those jeans,” she notes approvingly and he sighs.  
  
At the top of stairs, Andrew reaches out for the door handle to push open the door to the roof but the door opens before he touches it.  
  
There’s a scrawny hand grabbing Andrew by the wrist and pulling him forward.  
  
Andrew stands on top of the flat roof, looking at Jesse, eyes wide, and he thinks that maybe he has to be drunk for this, though his head is already spinning with all the questions.  
  
Andrew  _missed him_. Jesse wears his cargo pants with blue sweatshirt and Andrew wants to slip his fingers into Jesse’s curls.  Instead, he tightens his grip on the bottle to keep his hands occupy.  
  
Emma moves to stand right next to them, almost forcefully snatching the bottle from Andrew and shoving it at Jesse.  
  
“Andrew brought you present,” she says to him.   
  
Jesse keeps staring at Andrew in silence and Andrew stares back.  
  
“Okay, I’m leaving you and your feelings alone. Entertain yourselves.” Her voice disappears and they both look at the place where she was standing a moment ago.  
  
“What is this?” Andrew hears his own words. “This is some kind of set up? What– Why would you?”  
  
He looks at Jesse helplessly, hiding his hands behind his back, and he’s afraid of his hopes that grow stronger with each passing moment.   
  
Andrew thinks he needs to leave before he says or does something terrible.  
  
Jesse looks him right in the eye and says, “This is our date.”  
  
Andrew looks around attentively.  _There should be hidden cameras or something, right?!_  
  
“Andrew,” Jesse puts a bottle down, comes closer and nuzzles under his chin, his curls tickling Andrew’s jaw lightly.   
  
Andrew’s heart beats violently in his chest and threatens to explode as he tries to figure out what  _this all_  means.  
  
Jesse hugs Andrew tight and whispers desperately, “Andrew, please say something.”  
  
Andrew gives up, closing his eyes, and wraps his hands around Jesse’s thin form, smelling his scent, thinking, ‘ _Irreversibility’._  
  
It all came down to this, no matter what this is, and there’s no backtracking.  
  
He thinks about how he has to go back to LA, and then, London, and he’s sick of losing time, and he’s losing it day by day. Jesse is still here and Andrew is leaving him again, and if not now, then when?   
  
There won’t be another chance like this. He can say this and go back to his gray self, but with knowledge of using all the chances he could get.  
  
“I missed you,” Andrew breathes out, tightening his hold around his boy, as his chest hurts because Jesse has no idea  _how much_.   
  
“I know,” Jesse mumbles into his chest. “I did too. You know like– well, you know.”  
  
Andrew doesn’t think he does but he still says it, closing his eyes for a brief moment and collecting all the courage he has.   
  
“I’m in love with you.” He says, voice quiet and wavering.  
  
Jesse freezes in his arms for a brief moment and Andrew wonders if Jesse can hear his frantic heartbeat because Andrew’s world is narrowing only to the feeling of Jesse in his arms.  
  
Jesse pulls away, taking a step back to look at Andrew, and Andrew has to let him go.  
  
Andrew swallows thickly but holds his gaze and goes all the way, “Please, Jess, I do. And not like ‘ _you are my best friend and I love you’_  but more like ‘ _you are my everything and I love you_ ’.”   
  
 _There. He said it._  
  
Andrew runs his trembling fingers through his hair, and he tries to chuckle but his voice betrays him, hitching, “How horrible is this, Jess?”  
  
All that come out of Jesse’s mouth is, “You know, you are tremendously stupid.”   
  
Andrew nods shakily. Of course, he is stupid. He wonders how he could fool Jesse for that long.  
  
“And I’m so horribly stupid as well.” Now, that’s confusing, because Jesse is the brightest person Andrew thinks exists.  
  
“Now!” Jesse rushes into explanation, words tumbling over each other, “now, you’re being stupid and before. You and I both were,” Jesse says frowning, eyes twitching around as his hands fly for him to point out how stupid they are.  
  
“When I say that you’re stupid, um, I mean now and only when it comes to us. But in other times, you are not, because– because you are perfect.” His blue eyes shift to drill into Andrew’s eyes, and Andrew can’t find enough air to breathe. “And– and you’re smart and brilliant, and so unique, and when you smile everybody want to smile as well, because you make everything better, and I can’t remember what my life is like without you. Please don’t make me remember it, Andrew.”  
  
Jesse is breathless and he looks slightly desperate and Andrew wants to give him everything he asks for and more.    
  
“So, do you love me back, Andrew?” Jesse answers hesitantly.  
  
 _This can’t be happening, can it?_  
  
Andrew’s heart jumps violently in his ribcage and Andrew gasps, pulling Jesse close and burying his face into his curly hair, “No, no, stop it. Stop it, Jess. Jesus, my heart is gonna break, I think.”   
  
Andrew holds Jesse and he won’t let him go, but he needs to remind himself how to breathe.   
  
They both are quiet before Andrew spills out shakily. “Let me say this. Remember when you said, ‘ _Hello, my name is Jesse Eisenberg?_ ’ You are the only thing I’ve seen since then.”   
  
Jesse shifts, looking at Andrew with shining eyes, and kisses him.  
  
 _Jesse kisses him_. This is some kind of wonder, plus miracle, plus every good thing that could happen to Andrew summoning all in one to give him  _this_.  
  
Andrew answers him, lips brushing against Jesse’s while his head is litany of  _Jesse, Jesse, Jess_.  
  
And just, wow. Andrew thought of it, of course. He knew kissing Jesse would be amazing, but just, that amazing?  
  
Andrew clutches at Jesse tighter, palm cradling Jesse’s cheek and depends the kiss, tongue sliding inside Jesse’s wet mouth, and Jesse answers, breathing shallowly, his tongue pressing against Andrew’s, and Andrew knows he is already addictive to Jesse’s mouth and his kisses.  
  
“Wait,” Jesse pulls away for a second but Andrew chases his mouth and they are kissing again, less desperate and softer.  
  
“Andrew, wait,” Jesse smiles and giggles, and this is happy giggle and Andrew giggles in answer, breaking the kiss.  
  
“First,” Jesse looks at Andrew, eyes big and bright as if he can’t believe it, “this is–  we should have done this sooner.”  
  
Only for that Andrew steals another kiss, sucking lightly on Jesse’s lower lip, and then, smiles. Andrew can’t stop smiling.  
  
“Second,” Jesse has a hand pushing into Andrew’s chest to stop him, sounding breathless, while his other hand clutches into Andrew’s shoulder to keep him close, “this is a date, and I have everything prepared for it.”   
  
Jesse sounds proud despite him trying to catch his breath, and points behind them. Only then, Andrew notices a table served for two, candles and light strings placed around the table.  
  
“This is for me?” Andrew whispers out in disbelief, turning his questioning gaze at Jesse.   
  
“For  _us_.” Jesse’s small smile is infectious, gaze bright and meaning more things than he says. “I needed you to see, to know–” He stops himself. “You brought wine and I have pizza and candles, and this is  _our_  date.”  
  
He sounds determined.  
  
“Jesse,” Andrew whispers and kisses the corner of his mouth, drawing Jesse flush against his own body, “You did this– You–”  
  
There’s a story behind Jesse’s eyes, of how he got there, and Andrew has a story of his own, and they will share it later. Later, when it doesn’t feel like Jesse slips away the minute Andrew stops holding him.   
  
Jesse’s grip on him gets tighter and he doesn’t say a thing, just holds onto Andrew, and Andrew swallows hard and tries not to wake up.

  


 

  


Before they take their places at the table, Andrew pulls a chair out for Jesse because he wants to, because he always did, and because now he doesn’t have to freak out how it might be accepted by Jesse.   
  
Jesse gives him that secretive smile he always did, and Andrew’s heart skips a beat like usual.   
  
 _They had it before and they never noticed._  
  
Andrew lets his mouth do the talking, sharing stories from the set, and after, listens to Jesse talking about writing his script, and his dedicated listeners Luna and Mr. Jefferson, and how they miss Andrew.   
  
Andrew keeps watching every shift of Jesse’s movement with a smile on his lips. He tries to memorize every detail while this enormous feeling in his chest gets bigger and lighter.   
  
Every now and then they shut up and start grinning at each other. And Andrew thinks,  _is this real?_  
  
Sitting across each other gets uncomfortable and improper; gradually Andrew starts pulling his chair closer to Jesse until their knees are touching and he can touch Jesse whenever he wants to, pressing his nose into Jesse’s neck or kissing his cheek, with Jesse’s breathing stuttering.  
  
When Jesse reveals the details of setting up their date – him almost locking himself out on the roof – Andrew laughs and brushes his lips against Jesse’s, kissing him better, while his fingers draw circles on Jesse’s knee.  
  
 _Andrew can’t stop touching him._  
  
Jesse takes a sip from his glass of wine, puts it on table and gives Andrew a considerate look, “Are we going to have sex?”   
  
“What?” Andrew sputters.   
  
He’s glad he wasn’t chewing on pizza or drinking wine. Jesse wants to kill him, there’s no other explanation for all this.  
  
“I was hoping we could have sex.” Jesse explains, shrugging, rubbing his eyebrow with the tip of his index finger.  
  
Andrew looks at him, eye wide.  
  
“We can wait if you want,” Jesse says, fidgeting in his seat, “it’s not like I force you into it or– or want you to put out on the first date. We can go on another dates, take it slow, so you could– I can wait as long as you– Well, taking into account that you want this, if you don’t, I could–”  
  
“Your place?” Andrew chokes out.  
  
Jesse beams at him.  _Fucking beams at him._

  


 

  


They take a cab and why Andrew thought that Jesse would be hesitant or shy about this? Because, he. Is. Not. At all.   
  
They’re plastered on the backseat and Jesse’s hand slips under Andrew’s sweatshirt and t-shirt, fingers travelling over Andrew’s bare stomach, and moving lower, setting Andrew’s skin on fire. Jesse keeps this innocent face expression, blue eyes and all, while Andrew holds himself very still, eyes shocked, trying not to alert their cab driver.  
  
“Andrew,” Jesse leans to breathe into his ear, “I’m glad you don’t have to be on set tomorrow morning because you won’t be able anyway.”  
  
Andrew gasps loudly and gives their cab driver a weak smile when he glances at them in the mirror.  
  
Somehow they pay the driver and manage not to undress each other until they stumble into Jesse’s apartment. They pull into each other frantically, hands reaching for any item clothing to take it off until they have only underwear on.  
  
Luna meows somewhere in greeting but Jesse shoves Andrew into his room and closes the door shut.  
  
They stumble into the bed, legs tangling and Jesse keeps kissing him, and Andrew’s head is swimming.  
  
Jesse pulls away and Andrew finds himself on the bed, Jesse hovering above, Jesse‘s sheets are blue and smelling like their owner, and everything is familiar and not at the same time.   
  
Andrew can die with how much he wants to stay here forever.  
  
“I missed you,” says Andrew and Jesse smiles almost tentatively, leaning to brush his lips against Andrew’s, tongue flickering along Andrew’s bottom lip.   
  
Andrew closes his eyes for a second and throws all his doubts away.   
  
Andrew grips back of Jesse’s neck and licks inside his mouth, moaning; he rolls them to get more of Jesse, to get his hands on every part of him while every cell of his body screams to get as closer as possible.   
  
Jesse is here with him, naked and wanting, and Andrew needs this and more, needs  _everything_ , as long as Jesse is willing to give.    
  
Andrew has Jesse gasping, blinking at the ceiling, hands pulling at Andrew’s hair lightly as Andrew kisses Jesse’s neck and his collarbone, hands on Jesse’s shoulders – happy they got rid of their clothes – and catching every sound Jesse generously provides him with.  
  
Jesse’s skin is pale and warm, and Andrew can’t stop kissing him, doesn’t know how to stop. When he sucks bruise into Jesse’s stomach, Jesse shivers, and Andrew grins against his skin happily.   
  
 _He wants to give him everything._  
  
Andrew shifts his gaze to lock it with Jesse’s. They both breathe heavily, air getting charged with every passing moment, and Andrew wonders if Jesse knows what he does to him. How he makes him lose his mind completely.    
  
“Jesse,” Andrew doesn’t recognize his own voice, low and guttural, Jesse’s eyes getting darker, and Andrew lowers his hand and touches Jesse through material of Jesse’s briefs, asking.  
  
Jesse’s body jerks – his back  arching, eyes closed – and his hands get a death grip on Andrew’s shoulder, “Please, Andrew.”   
  
Andrew waits.  
  
Jesse licks his dry lips and continues in a croaked voice, pushing his hips up, “Put your hands on me.”   
  
Andrew loudly sucks air through his teeth, calming himself down.   
  
First, he bends down to kiss Jesse on his wet pink mouth, messily and rough, because he doesn’t control himself anymore and his brain stopped functioning sometimes around the moment Jesse touched his skin in the cab.  
  
Jesse answers with the same force, biting Andrew’s lower lip before letting go. Andrew recognizes this wild urge, and he knows he is not the only one infected with this.  
  
Jesse helps Andrew shove down their underwear, movements erratic and uncontrolled, and Andrew is dizzy.  
  
“Andrew, Andrew,” Jesse gasps and his teeth catch flesh of Andrew’s collarbone, hands frantically roaming over Andrew’s chest.  
  
Andrew plans to get himself attached to Jesse’s body because he doesn’t think he’ll manage to keep himself from touching Jesse now that he knows what it feels like.  
  
Jesse is completely naked, smooth and beautiful, and more than Andrew allowed himself to imagine.  
  
“What do you want, Jess?” Andrew kisses inside of Jesse’s thigh gently, eyes wild and dark, pulling away to press his fingertips into Jesse’s hips, mesmerized by white marks he leaves on pale skin for seconds.   
  
Andrew swallows hard and meets Jesse’s darkened gaze. “I’ll do everything. What?”  
  
Jesse pauses and it feels like calm before the storm.  
  
“You. Inside me. No fingers. Only you.” Jesse demands, pupils wide, and Andrew covers Jesse’s trembling body with his own, and locks their mouths, not kissing, just breathing with him, until they shake less, until their need is taken under slight control.  
  
Jesse’s hand reaches to open the drawer and Andrew pulls out lube and condoms, watching Jesse.   
  
Jesse worries his bottom lip and Andrew launches forward to set it free, licking it softly. He presses his open mouth against Jesse’s, fingers threading through Jesse’s curls. Andrew sighs into the kiss with satisfaction, because apparently not kissing Jesse doesn’t seem an option anymore.               
  
Andrew’s hands tremble slightly when he puts condom on and lubes himself up, because this is Jesse in front of him. Jesse who doesn’t understand how baseball works but he knows Russian October revolution phase of 1917. Same Jesse who now watches him with hunger in his dark blue eyes, clutching the sheets in his fists, and it feels like they both will break and won’t be brought back if they don’t get closer.  
  
Jesse spreads his legs apart, staring at Andrew and inviting him in, and Andrew breathes for a few seconds, watching him with the wide bright eyes. This is his precious Jesse, who somehow loves him and wants to be with him, and Andrew would do anything to keep this.  
  
Despite Jesse’s command, Andrew lubes his fingers and circles Jesse’s hole, probing inside, pressing in and out gently, afraid to hurt, working two fingers until Jesse hisses, “Now, Andrew. Want it now.”  
  
Andrew holds his dick in one hand and pushes his way inside slowly, intently watching Jesse‘s flushed face and straining himself from moving faster, muscles in his arms tensed.   
  
Jesse is tight and hot, and Andrew shakes visibly, sweating.   
  
Jesse gulps audibly and grips Andrew’s shoulder, fingers digging painfully.  
  
“Jesse?” Andrew stops, panicking, thinking of pulling out.  
  
Jesse’s grip on him tightens, holding him in place, “Just wait.”  
  
Jesse blinks and breathes shallowly for a few moments – Andrew watching him with worried eyes – until Jesse’s breathing evens out, “Move. Please, move, Andrew. I need. Faster.”  
  
Andrew starts moving slowly and when Jesse’s hands grip his ass cheeks, forcing Andrew to slide deeper, he fastens his speed, thrusting in and out. Everything is spinning and there’s only Jesse, his beautiful Jesse, the sun Andrew’s universe revolves around.     
  
Andrew’s sweat is dripping from his hair onto Jesse’s chest, while he tries to keep the pace, and Jesse makes little breathy noises and says, “More, Andrew. Want more.”   
  
Andrew cups Jesse’s ass and lifts his left leg, trying to hit the right spot until Jesse jerks in his arms violently and cries his name _._    
  
Andrew snaps his hips, keeping the same angle, trying to get higher, and he knows they won’t last long. “Jess, so good. So good.”  
  
Their bodies slide against each other, wet from sweat, and Jesse’s nails scratch across Andrew’s ass as Jesse hisses, “ _fuck, fuck, fuck. Andrew, please_.”   
  
Andrew curls his hand around Jesse’s cock and Jesse sobs into his shoulder.   
  
 _You are so beautiful_ , Andrew thinks.  
  
His every emotion is narrowed to this and now, lost to the world, with only one need – to get them both over the edge.  
  
Andrew pulls at Jesse’s dick a few times and Jesse cries out, coming with  _fuck_  and  _Andrew._  
  
Andrew is slipping away as well. It takes Jesse pinching Andrew’s nipple for Andrew to start coming, moaning while riding off his orgasm.  
  
Andrew tries to catch his breath, resting his head on Jesse’s shoulder. They breathe heavily before Andrew pulls out and automatically throws the used condom into the trashcan.   
  
Andrew curls himself around Jesse, their knees touching and puts his hand against Jesse’s chest.  
  
Jesse gazes at him, eyes bright blue, “We need to repeat it soon.”   
  
Andrew lets out a little laugh into Jesse’s shoulder before sliding down to lick Jesse’s chest and stomach clean.  
  
“I hate you,” moans Jesse, “You broke me.”  
  
Andrew raises his head to grin at him, “Rubbish, you love me.”   
  
Jesse only smiles at him, “Yes, there is a slight possibility of that.”  
  
They need to take a shower, but they’re sleepy and Andrew plasters himself to Jesse’s back – steady hand on Jesse’s waist, kissing Jesse’s neck – before dozing off.

  


 

  


Jesse wakes up to someone singing quietly. No, not someone.  _Andrew_.  
  
The realization of Andrew being here with him, loving him, is catching up with him, and Jesse’s heart is bombarded with emotions, barely containing everything inside. He lies still, eyes closed, and tries to control his breathing in attempt to catch the words Andrew murmurs, afraid to disturb their moment.  
  
 _I hope you don't mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words. How wonderful life is now you're in the world._  
  
Andrew’s words make Jesse’s world shift a little, he feels the things changing, and it would be like jumping off the cliff except Andrew is here and Jesse is not afraid.  
  
He lets go his old miserable shelf, gulping, sinking into new universe where he allows himself to hold onto Andrew.  
  
Jesse turns, opening his eyes, and meets Andrew’s gaze.  
  
Andrew trails off. “Hey,” his face light up and he leans down to brush his lips against Jesse’s.  
  
He presses his forehead against Jesse’s, closing his eyes, and whispers, “Still with me? Not planning to kick me out?”  
  
“Andrew,” Jesse cradles his face – forcing Andrew to open his eyes – and levels his gaze with Andrew’s, shaking his head in amazement, “You were singing Elton John to me.”  
  
Nobody even sang to Jesse. Especially not the boy Jesse is in love with.  
  
“It was more Ewan McGregor’s version,” Andrew shrugs it off and looks at Jesse, small smile and questioning gaze.  
  
Jesse has a lump in his throat because he knows how it feels, and he never thought that Andrew felt the same way. His thumb caresses Andrew’s cheek, “I don’t mind you singing  _God Save the Queen_  every morning to me.”  
  
Andrew gets the  _every morning_  part, and even if his smile is wavering, his gaze brightens. Andrew leans down and whispers into Jesse’s ear, “When you were asleep I thought of marking your skin with permanent ink so you could never forget me even if this is a last time.”  
  
Jesse blinks and tries not to cry. “Andrew,” he whispers.  
  
When Andrew kisses Jesse, Jesse gets it.   
  
This is why all those people write songs about that.   
  
This is really everything and more. Now, he gets it.

  


 

  


They spend morning and afternoon in bed, sneaking out of bedroom only for taking shower, feeding themselves and cats, or using bathroom, and Jesse doesn’t mind, bundled up in sheets and smiling because his happiness is permanent with Andrew around.  
  
Andrew looks good under the sun’s rays, their legs tangled while he thoughtfully reads a part of Jesse’s script, chewing on his lower lip.  
  
Jesse looks, his heart rate quickening, and he just  _has_  to push Andrew down, putting his script aside. Andrew mumbles something incomprehensible when Jesse licks Andrew’s warm golden skin, tasting the mint soap and underneath, Andrew’s scent.   
  
Jesse thoroughly kisses every part of Andrew’s body, immersed in paying attention to every patch of his skin – dedicated to not let Andrew touch Jesse or himself – until Andrew’s body is violently shuttering underneath Jesse. Andrew whimpers brokenly, his eyes shut tight and eyelashes fluttering, looking completely wrecked, and not aware of it.  
  
Jesse pulls away to press his hand against Andrew’s chest, feeling his heartbeat, while he lowers himself down on Andrew’s hard cock.   
  
Andrew’s eyes jerk open, gaze clouded when he looks at Jesse, and Jesse leans down to whisper into his ear, “Let’s do more practice.” 

  


 

  


After, Andrew brings them tea and cookies into bed and Jesse suspects that he would lock them in the bedroom if given a chance.   
  
Jesse is okay with staying indoors and enjoying spending time with his Andrew, bodies flush against each other, grinding slowly to the beat of Kate Nash’s song Andrew put on loop.   
  
But then, Andrew suggests going to the bookstore while kissing Jesse’s jaw and this is definition of Jesse’s heaven – Andrew and a bookstore in one place.   
  
Jesse smiles, lightly biting Andrew’s earlobe and cupping his balls before jumping out of bed while Andrew gasps.   
  
Jesse searches his drawer for clean briefs while Andrew whines, “I didn’t mean this exact moment, Jess. Get your arse back in bed.”   
  
“Your cock will have free reign of my ass when we get back.”    
  
“Oh my Gosh!” Andrew exclaims. “Don’t say such things if you don’t plan to follow them right after.”   
  
Jesse smirks at him, while putting his gray briefs on. “I promise we can visit some clothing store after for you to get back in a happy mood.”  
  
“My boyfriend doesn’t respect me.” Andrew wails falsely.  
  
 _Boyfriend?_  Jesse doesn’t like to be labeled because this is narrow-minded and slightly offensive, but apparently, being labeled as Andrew’s boyfriend makes his chest feel warm and makes him feel stupidly happy.  
  
Jesse never claimed to be logical.   
  
Jesse peers helplessly inside his closet until Andrew joins him, completely naked. Next moment, Jesse’s hands are full of his favourite grey pants, worn out brown check shirt and dark blue hoodie.   
  
“You don’t really like these pants,” Jesse turns to frown at Andrew. “Why did you choose them?”  
  
“They are comfortable and baggy, just like you prefer,” Andrew shrugs non-caringly.  
  
Jesse tilts his head to watch him carefully.  
  
“And apparently not clinging to me tightly as the ones you always force me to buy,” Jesse slowly draws out, “which means less attention to some parts of my body.”  
  
He concludes and watches Andrew with a smile on his face.   
  
“They just fit you better,” Andrew says stubbornly and tightens his lips, affronted, before storming into the bathroom.  
  
Jesse laughs. He is so happy.

  


 

  


Andrew stands in front of Jesse, slowly zipping up Jesse’s hoodie, while Jesse looks down, dubiously observing Andrew’s ridiculous red pants.  
  
Andrew zips him up and huffs, “Shut up, they are ultra stylish.” As if Jesse was saying a thing.  
  
Jesse wrinkles his nose but keeps silence, he’s not the one to talk.   
  
Besides, Jesse secretly thinks that Andrew is Fashion Prince or what they call royalties among the ones who knows how to dress. Whatever Andrew wears, it just fits the purpose of him being flawless. Clothes love Andrew. Though, now they serve Jesse’s urge to get rid of them. Still, they love him, which Jesse finds completely understandable.  
  
Jesse thinks he at least can try to be trendy too (for Andrew), which is why he glances down at Andrew’s pants before putting on his red baseball cap and declaring, “We match.”  
  
Andrew laughs and kisses Jesse’s cheek, lips moving towards Jesse’s mouth, and Jesse knows he must be said the stupidest thing, but he has never been so proud of himself just for making this boy smile.   
  
Andrew’s scruff tickles Jesse’s chin, and Jesse slips his fingers into Andrew’s hair, pulling Andrew down and kissing him slow and thoroughly, his tongue exploring Andrew’s mouth.  
  
Jesse pulls away and takes a good look at breathless Andrew, noticing Andrew’s crumpled blue check shirt he pulled out from under Luna, two-days scruff and disheveled hair.  
  
Andrew looks happy and fucked out. Jesse likes the look.  
  
“Can we stay in instead?” Andrew suggests hopefully, trying not to whine, but Jesse tugs at his hand and pulls him forward before he loses his own resolution.  
  
Before closing the door, Andrew pulls on his backpack and Jesse takes his bike because it needs to be taken for a walk as well.

  


 

  


First, they walk into  _McNally Jackson Bookstore_  where Andrew happily digs out  _Spider-Man_  comics, and Jesse tries really hard not to look scandalized while his opinion of the store gets lower.  
  
They leave with Patti Smith’s book ‘ _Just kids’_  for Andrew and Ernest R. May’s ‘ _American imperialism: a speculative essay_ ’ for Jesse.  
  
Their next stop is  _Supreme_  store. Jesse sinks down into the sofa while Andrew brings him clothes and puts them against Jesse’s chest. Andrew has this look of intense concentration on his face, teeth catching his lower lip while he obviously calculates all the possible scenarios of that shirt or that jacket matching with, and Jesse keeps quiet.  
  
Five minutes in, and Jesse pulls out his book and keeps it high in front of his eyes to not disturb Andrew’s process.  
  
They leave the store carrying a big yellow bag, with two matching shirts piled up on the bottom. Jesse’s freshly bought black hoodie ends up in Andrew’s backpack.  
  
Once, outside the store, Jesse unlocks his bike and puts his ear buds in to not lose them.  
  
He turns his head to grin at Andrew, dimples shown, in time to catch Andrew’s whisper, “The paps are here. No, don’t look around. Act natural!”  
  
Jesse starts flailing his hands around, aiming for nonchalant.   
  
“This is your natural?” Andrew smiles at him. Jesse doesn’t tell him that Andrew’s smile ruins all the conspiracy.  
  
Jesse gives him a light shrug of his shoulders, chewing on bottom lip, “I guess. Um, taking into account that presumably this _acting natural_  implies that I should portrait myself as a nervous type.”   
  
Andrew looks at him with the amount adoration that is not possible for one person to take but Jesse manages.  
  
“What should we do now?” Jesse’s mood changes as he basks in Andrew’s attention, barely hiding his grin.  
  
“Well,” Andrew lowers his voice and Jesse commands himself not to think about the things he was doing to Jesse this morning, using this voice, “We’re going to separate and move in different directions. Destination point is your place. I’ve still got your spare key on me. We’re gonna hook up like spy lovers.” Andrew’s face lights up. He clearly enjoys this all.   
  
Jesse should be annoyed by the paparazzi but they make Andrew smile, so, he’s not.  
  
Andrew points his hand towards one direction, as if showing Jesse the right route to ride his bike.  _Yeah, like Jesse is not the one living in New York._    
  
According to plan, Jesse points him the opposite direction.  
  
Then, Andrew shares with Jesse some weird hand shake gesture, bro style or something (because apparently kissing Jesse goodbye would be suspicious), while Jesse looks intently at their hands, trying to follow.  
  
“Be back for sure,” Andrew says quietly like it’s some secret code phrase for ‘ _goodbye’_.  
  
Jesse turns his back on the paparazzi and asks suspiciously, “what if they read lips?”, trying not to move his own much.  
  
Andrew’s grin widens and he gives Jesse a mischievous look, biting his lip to keep from smiling, before walking away.  
  
Jesse hops on his bike and pedals home. 

 

 

Apparently, Andrew is the first to get inside apartment, because when Jesse fumbles for the key outside the door, Andrew swings the door open, and jerks Jesse in, along with his bike. The bike is promptly pulled out of him and Jesse is pushed against the wall.  
  
Jesse opens his mouth in attempt to ask  _what the hell going on_ , but Andrew is already on his knees, unzipping Jesse’s pants and shoving them down. When Andrew puts his hand on Jesse’s dick and kisses the crown, Jesse squeezes his eyes shut and hisses, “Just fuck me already.”  
  
Clearly, Andrew ruined Jesse.

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

The next few days Jesse splits his time between writing his script and hanging on  _Spider-Man_  set.  
  
Andrew insists on Jesse coming on set every day for support, which means mostly hanging in his trailer during breaks.   
  
It means kissing Andrew’s closed eyelids and guarding his sleep when he dozes off. It means obediently chewing on the food under Andrew’s glare. It also means trying to catch his breath when Andrew’s body pushes into him, shoving his thighs apart.    
  
Unfortunately, Jesse has to deal with Emma who makes kissy faces at them and demands to become a godmother of their first child.

  


 

  


First time Emma sees them, she shrieks, “You are holding hands! Cute  _hands holding_  alert!”, and Jesse attempts to jerk his hand away awkwardly but Andrew doesn’t let him, tightening his grip.  
  
So, Jesse slips her cell phone number to Justin, assuring him that she’s his biggest fan since  _N’Sync_  times and she finds him  _dreamy_ , and just wishes for him to call her and sing ‘ _Tearin' Up My Heart_ ’ (Jesse even made an effort of Googling _N’Sync_  song lyrics before choosing the right song).   
  
Jesse may or may not completely forget about that one time during promoting  _Zombieland_  when Emma confessed how much she hated boy bands, especially,  _that one with Britney’s ex pet, the one with curly hair, no offense, Jesse._  
  
After, Emma doesn’t talk to him, so Jesse promises her he’ll Google for Justin’s embarrassing childhood pictures for her to post online, and they’re even.

  


 

  


Before the last shooting day of  _Spider-Man,_  Jesse wakes up to Andrew nuzzling his neck, dry lips brushing side of his jaw.  
  
It’s still dark and Jesse slurs, “Shh, sleep now.”  
  
Andrew buries his face into Jesse’s neck and just breathes.  
  
Jesse pulls blanket higher to cover Andrew’s back, curling his hand around Andrew’s warm shoulders, and starts to doze off.  
  
“C’mon, Jess, I need you out there with me.” Andrew says somewhere into Jesse’s collarbone, and he sounds like it’s important.  
  
Jesse blinks his eyes open, taking in his surroundings, viewing mop of brown hair – Andrew’s head resting on Jesse’s chest, Jesse’s pale hand covering Andrew’s golden skin territorially.  
  
Jesse swallows thickly, mouth dry and croaks, “okay.”  
  
They eat some breakfast and fill the cats’ bowls before heading out, and when Jesse looks at Andrew, receiving Andrew’s warm sleepy smile in answer, Jesse knows he’d follow Andrew anywhere.  
  
Before heading outside, Andrew puts on one of his hipster hats and wraps his ridiculous green scarf around Jesse’s neck, mumbling, “It’s cold there,” and Jesse doesn’t even open his mouth to protest.

  


 

  


They walk the streets and it feels like it’s just them, as if the feelings and sensations locked inside Jesse’s apartment are spilling over into the streets, widening the borders, and they can let themselves be who they are.   
  
New York isn’t awake, streets dark and almost empty, and when Andrew grabs Jesse’s hand, he glances sideways at Andrew and smiles, the light feeling inside his chest forcing him want to laugh or to cry.   
  
Andrew doesn’t tell him where they’re going and Jesse doesn’t ask, but shortly before reaching the place – only one block from the building – Jesse understands.  
  
Jesse brings up their tangled fingers, lips quickly brushing over Andrew’s knuckles, while he stares right ahead, not pausing in his walk.  
  
Andrew stops, forcing Jesse to stop as well, and when Jesse cranes his neck to look at him, Andrew watches him silently, eyes shining, as if Jesse is the most amazing thing in the world.

  


 

  


They end up standing on the rooftop of the building where their lives have completely changed.    
  
Andrew’s hands envelop Jesse, Andrew’s chest pressed to Jesse’s back, his chin on Jesse’s shoulder, and they stare silently at New York in front of them, sun slowly coming up.  
  
“I am Kate Winslet in this scenario, aren’t I?” Jesse breaks silence.  
  
“You won’t ruin this moment for me, Jesse Eisenberg,” Andrew attempts to keep himself from giggling. Jesse feels with his back tremors coming from Andrew’s body.   
  
Jesse smiles and just lets himself breathe quietly for a few moments, watching the city.  
  
“It’s beautiful here. Thank you.”  _For everything, really. Thank you for everything._    
  
Andrew says the words into his neck, sighing, “I just– I just wanted to share your city with you. To feel what you feel.”  
  
Jesse’s heart starts beating faster; he turns inside the circle of Andrew’s arms and asks, not bothering to keep hope from his voice, “Is there a chance for this city to become yours?”  
  
Andrew looks at him, eye big and nods, swallowing thickly. And there’s so much in his eyes, emotions that won’t fit into the words, and Jesse doesn’t need more reassurance from Andrew.   
  
In that right moment he realizes, he never felt so confident about anything in his life.    
  
He looks at Andrew, eyes serious, “You know my therapist told me once that I deserve to be happy. So, I think I do– I deserve my happiness. I mean, I deserve  _you_.”  
  
Andrew smiles blindingly and kisses him in answer.

 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: 'Ya ne ponimayu vas' means 'I don't understand you'


End file.
